


Bargaining

by Adoradork



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Grief, family love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 03:17:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3712795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adoradork/pseuds/Adoradork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raphael would do anything to protect his brothers. But when one brother goes down, all his strength and rage can't fix what's broken. Raphael will promise the impossible if Donnie will just come back to them. But will the universe accept his offerings?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bargaining

There were pizza boxes strewn across the kitchen table, most of them still with pizza inside. Raphael stared at the slice on his plate. He couldn't remember when he had felt less like eating. There was a tight band across his chest that wouldn't go away.

He pushed a box toward Mikey, usually the last person to refuse pizza. "Here, bro."

"No thanks." Mikey played aimlessly with the slice on his plate.

"Leo?"

Leo shook his head. "We should take some in to Master Splinter, though. He hasn't eaten in hours." He reached out for a plate.

Footsteps approached and Splinter came into the kitchen. They all jumped up. The question was on Raphael's lips, but it was Leo who asked first.

"Is he-?"

Splinter shook his head. "No change." He put a slice of pizza on a plate in silence and headed back to the bedrooms.

The three of them exchanged a glance. _No change._ Raphael leaned against the cupboard, his arms folded across his chest like a shield. Mikey hunched over, resting his chin on his folded arms. Leo stood with his head down, hands resting on the benchtop, fingers splayed out, staring at his hands as if they held some sort of answer.

No change for twelve hours. Twelve hours and Donnie would not wake up.

It was Leo who moved first, reaching out to close pizza boxes and stack them in a pile. He put them in the fridge. "All right. Time for our evening patrol."

"What?" Raphael pushed himself off the cupboard. "Are you crazy? We can't go out now!"

"The Kraang aren't going to put their invasion plans on hold just because Donnie is-"

Raphael shoved himself forward until he was inches from Leo's face. "Because Donnie is _what_ ," he snapped, his hands curling into fists. _Don't say it. Don't say it. If you say it, I'll-_

Leo stared him down until Raphael had to look away. "Because Donnie is out of action. For now." His face was set into stubborn lines. "So we patrol."

_We can't go out there. What if something happens?_ He couldn't even admit to himself what _something_ might be. They couldn't go now. "We're not going. You can't possibly expect us to-" He flung up his hands, unable to say what he wanted to say without touching on the raw place in his chest.

"I can. Staying here won't help. We're going."

"Just...just us?" said Mikey, eyes wide.

Raphael swung around to face Mikey. "Who else, genius?" He lashed out at Mikey's head. He knew the blow was too hard, knew it as soon as he swung, knew it when he heard the snap of Mikey's teeth as his hand connected.

Mikey ducked away from him, hand to his head, blue eyes stormy.

"Enough, Raphael. Mikey. We're going." Leo turned and walked out, head down.

Mikey followed Leo out of the lair. Raphael stood in the kitchen, fists clenched. _Too hard, meathead. Pull your punches!_ He slammed his fist down on the benchtop. The jarring impact sent a shockwave up through his wrist to the shoulder. One breath in, one breath out. It wasn't Mikey's fault. It wasn't anyone's fault. But he wanted it to be. Wanted someone or something to blame.

He glanced towards the bedrooms. _If you wake up, Donnie…_ He could still feel the impact of his hand on Mikey's skull.

_If you wake up, I promise I will never slap Mikey again._


	2. Blame

Plasma beams streaked past Raphael's cheek, the heat of them crackling on his skin. He dived behind a crate, adrenalin thundering through his body. Battle-heightened senses screamed at him to move and he rolled aside as the crates exploded behind him, showering him with chips of wood.

He pushed up to his knees and shook his head to clear the dust and splinters off his face. Mikey backflipped across his field of vision, staying ahead of death by seconds and Raph's heart was in his throat as each shot came closer. At the last moment Mikey dived behind a pillar. Raph bolted across the open space, ducked as fire shot over his head, landed on his knees and skidded in beside Mikey. He grabbed Mikey's shoulders, eyes searching frantically for burn marks, for blood.

"We're totally losing!" Mikey yelled, blue eyes wide.

Mikey was fine. "Get your head in the game!" Raphael snapped, and slapped him. He could hear the slash and bite of Leo's swords as he hacked through the Kraang droids. Raphael shifted his sai into a different hold. "Come on. Leo's on his own out there." He dived out, Mikey on his heels. Leo struck down one droid and charged forward, but was pushed back by plasma fire on his unguarded left. The place where Donnie should have been.

And that was the problem. Used to being four, now three, there seemed to be gaps everywhere. Raphael stabbed his sai into a robotic chest, feeling the electric shock snap up his arm to his shoulder. The Kraang took advantage of every blunder and forced them back. The brothers tried to make up for Donnie's absence, tried to be everywhere, and only ended up getting in each others' way.

Frustration had carved lines in Leo's face as he battled to move them forward, to get past the hordes and into the heart of the Kraang facility where they could do some real damage. But it took too long to get through locked doors. Too long to take down the wave of Kraang droids in their way. Too long to figure out what the Kraang were planning.

Questions hovered over them. _How do we open this door, Donnie? What's in those crates, Donnie? Which way should we go, Donnie?_ But Donnie wasn't around to answer Raph's questions.

The doors at the end of the warehouse rolled open, the tramp of Kraang-droid feet audible over the sound of battle. Too many. An endless supply. _Where do they come from? Is there a factory somewhere churning out Kraang droids faster than we can take them out?_

"Plan!" he screamed at Leo, slashing at the mass of bodies in front of him.

Leo hesitated, just for a second, long enough for a Kraang to fire through the chaos. Time seemed to slow down as Leo moved aside. _Too slow, too slow!_ Raph threw himself at Leo, crashing into him, sending them both flying into the surrounding droids. They thudded into the floor, the impact snatching Raphael's breath from his chest. Robotic hands grabbed for them. Raphael surged upwards, roaring, flinging them away. Then Mikey was there, hauling Leo to his feet.

"Out," shouted Leo. "Go!"

There was no point arguing. Raphael swung himself up the wall, followed Mikey through a shattered window, plasma fire spearing after them into the night. They ran across the rooftops until they were sure there was no one following.

Raphael wiped the sweat off his face. His hands shook, adrenalin still playing percussion on his muscles. He clenched his fists around his sai to mask the shaking.

Mikey flopped down against a wall, panting. "Well, that was fun."

Raphael slammed his sai into his harness. "Fun? It was a disaster." He swung around to face Leo. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Leo was leaning over, hands on his knees. He straightened and faced Raphael. "I don't know, Raphael, maybe I was thinking of taking out another Kraang facility?"

"Well, we did a great job there. I'm sure they'll look back and curse our names for completely failing to do any damage at all!"

"Look, we at least know where they are now. They're planning something. So we'll regroup, come back tomorrow and-"

"And what? Dance around and get shot at again?"

Exasperation played across Leo's face. "I'll work out another plan."

"Well I hope it's better than the last one!" _You should shut up now,_ said a cooler voice in his brain, but it was drowned out by the last burning vestiges of adrenalin in his blood. "This is your fault, Leo! If you had listened to me and stayed home, this would never have happened!"

Leo slammed his katana into their scabbards and turned away, his back stiff. Only then did Raphael see the long, dark streak of a plasma burn running down the back of his thigh.

"You're hurt." Guilt squirrelled its way into his guts. "Let me see."

"I'm fine," Leo snapped. The forbidding line of his shoulders said _don't come near me_. "Let's just go home."

By the time they reached the sewer entrance, Leo was limping badly. He hadn't said a word to anyone, not even Mikey. Raph trailed along behind his brothers. The post-fight buzz had come and gone and now he was just tired and angry, angry at Leo for getting hurt, angry at himself for laying the blame for their failed mission on Leo's shoulders. Again.

_You should have listened to me. You should have known we wouldn't be able to take them. You should have kept us home. You should have-_

He knew he wasn't being fair, and that just made the flame in his chest burn more fiercely, until the taste of it rose up into his throat and choked him.

Inside the lair, Leo went straight to Don's lab. Mikey glanced at Raph and followed Leo. Raphael leaned his head on the kitchen bench. No Donnie to poke at their wounds and dole out burn cream and slap on a bandage.

He knew he should follow them into the lab, go and stand beside Leo and apologise. He clenched his fists, felt his fingers dig into his palms. _Just go. Make peace._ But then Leo and Mikey came out of the lab and it was too late. Too hard, now. The moment was gone.

_If you wake up, Donnie, I promise I will never blame Leo for our failures again._


	3. Breathing

Raphael slipped his mask on, then sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor. Someone was clattering about outside, probably Mikey in the kitchen, making breakfast. He rubbed a hand over his face and got up with a sigh.

Outside, he crept past the open door to Donnie's room. Should he go in? He hesitated, torn between wanting to check on his brother, but not wanting to see him still lying there, unchanged. Donnie had been down for over twenty-four hours now.

"It is time to wake up, my son." Raphael froze. Splinter's voice was barely above a whisper. He edged closer to the doorway so he could look through. Splinter knelt beside the bed. Donnie lay in exactly the same position as yesterday, the covers pulled tight across his chest. Raphael held his breath, watching for the slight rise and fall of his plastron. Barely a movement at all.

"You are worrying your family. This is not acceptable." Splinter reached out a hand and stroked Donnie's forehead. "Come now. Come back to us." The tone was low, but commanding. Raphael's heartbeat sped up. No one denied Splinter when he used that tone. Surely Donnie would hear him and wake up, open his eyes. Surely Splinter would get through to him, wherever he was.

But the seconds passed and nothing changed. Splinter sighed and cupped his hand gently around Donnie's cheek. "My son…"

Raphael fled. His vision blurred. Stupid. He scrubbed at his eyes. He couldn't breathe through the iron band across his chest. He clenched his fist, slammed it into the wall. That was better. There was a burning behind his eyes. He punched the wall again.

When his breathing was under control, he pushed off the wall and headed for the kitchen. Mikey was prepping for breakfast, rattling pots and pans, but without his usual vigour.

"You want eggs?" said Mikey.

Raphael shook his head. "I'm not hungry." His guts tightened with nausea.

"No. Me either." Mikey put the pan down on the stove with a sigh.

Leo walked into the kitchen, snapping the knot on his mask tight. "You should eat. Starving yourself won't help."

Raphael glared at Leo. "Yeah. Hate to let a little tragedy ruin your appetite."

"That's not what I meant. I just mean that it's pointless to...to mope around. We have to keep going, keep training. Like normal." He nodded to Mikey. "Make breakfast for everyone."

_But this isn't normal. And I don't want it to become normal._ "Yeah, go ahead Mikey, make breakfast," he said, knowing it would annoy Leo. The band across his chest tightened, forcing him to take short, sharp breaths.

"Guys, come on," said Mikey. "It's fine, I can make breakfast."

"Why do you have to turn everything I say into a fight?" said Leo, his hands clenched at his sides.

"Why do you have to say such stupid shit?"

"Language."

"Oh sorry, Splinter junior."

"Guys-" pleaded Mikey.

Raphael stormed off to the training dummy and hammered it with fists and feet, pounding his feelings into the stuffed form. Better the dummy than Leo. Why had he said that? He glanced over to the kitchen.

Mikey was making eggs. Leo leaned on the counter. He pushed up his mask and rubbed at his face. Even from here Raphael could see the dark circles under his eyes that spoke of a sleepless night.

Raphael pulled out his sai and stabbed the dummy a couple of times. Leo's battle to achieve sleep was one they were all familiar with now, as much a part of the landscape as the furniture. He grabbed the dummy and slammed his knee into it. He didn't want to ask, didn't want to know about Leo's current nightmares. Of brothers falling badly, lying still and pale and unresponsive. Of a sensei silent and grim.

Raphael leaned on the dummy. He didn't have nightmares. When he slept, he slept. He dreamed, sometimes, and sure, some dreams were bad. But they didn't haunt him, didn't take over his sleeping and waking life. He'd mentioned this to Donnie. Once.

_It's because you have a limited imagination. You're a D-type personality. You don't like routine and you don't like details, and you have a tendency to-_

He'd never found out what he had a tendency to, because he'd interrupted the uncalled for psychological assessment with his fist. But he had a feeling Donnie was going to say _a tendency to over-react._

_You know so much, don't you Donnie? Well it didn't help you, did it? Maybe if you spent more time training and less time thinking..._

But that wasn't fair, either. How many times had Donnie's knowledge pulled their shells out of the fire?

_But when it was Donnie who needed saving, where were we?_

Leo stumbled and pulled up, shaking his head. _Right now I'm glad I have a limited imagination._ His daytime thoughts were bad enough. Seeing Leo fighting to keep going made him glad, not for the first time, that nightmares were not something he had to bear.

He sighed, and laid into the dummy again with his fists. The movement felt good, cathartic, the rhythmic thud of his knuckles was something he could concentrate on, other than thoughts of…

He slammed his foot into the dummy to stop that line of thought. But he couldn't.

_Donnie, if you wake up, I promise I will always listen to what you are telling me. All of it._


	4. Blood

No one spoke much at breakfast, though Mikey tried for a while to smooth over the tension. Leo fiddled with his food, his gaze distant. Raphael kept his eyes on his plate, stabbing forkfuls of eggs and forcing them down. They tasted of ash in his mouth.

Leo pushed his plate away. "Splinter wants us to train this morning."

Raphael grunted in response. Good. A few hours of sweat would help. He needed movement, needed it badly. They dumped their plates in the sink and headed for the dojo. Leo paused on the edge to bow in respect. Raphael made a perfunctory bow and pushed past him, eager to get to work, to calm the whirling mess in his head. He ignored Leo's pointed sigh.

Leo straightened. "All right. Let's start with _kata_."

"What?" Form work. He hated form work. "Why can't we spar?"

"Master Splinter wants us to work on _Kame no Kata_ and _Sanchin no Kata_."

"Are you kidding? That's baby stuff! We learned that years ago!"

Leo looked exasperated. "Well, maybe he feels that we need to refresh, since we haven't done them for ages. I don't know. Just do it, Raph."

"Fine. And then we can spar?"

Leo ignored him, settling into the first movement of _Kame no Kata_. Mikey followed suit. Raphael growled and lined up beside them. _Just focus. Breathe. Get through it and then you can work out this...this…_ He had no words for the pain inside.

He breathed in, clenched his fists, snapped out the first punch. At least you could see cuts and bruises. Block, kick. Whack a bandage on it and in a few days it would be better. He moved through the form, putting as much of his anger into the movements as he could. There was no bandage for this. Punch, sweep, kick. Nothing that they could do that would fix what was broken inside Donnie. He worked his way to the end of the second kata and dropped his hands, relieved. Done. Now he could lose himself in something more worthwhile.

"What the hell was that?" said Leo. He glared at Raphael, arms folded across his chest.

"What?"

"You're moving like a board. Where's your flow?"

"My _flow_? Who cares? I did it, didn't I? Hurry up and finish so we can fight."

"No, I'm going to take the time to do it _right_."

"Fine, I'll spar with Mikey then."

"Leave Mikey out of this. He's actually working on his kata." He wasn't. He was standing behind Leo, watching them argue, looking resigned. "Do it again."

"No! I did it just fine!"

"You didn't even try! What's the point of doing it if you're not going to make the effort to do it right?" snapped Leo.

"I am doing it right! I don't need to perfect form to hit people!"

Raphael saw the exact moment when Leo's control shattered. Leo lashed out with his fist, his face ugly with rage. Raphael threw up his arm, blocking the first punch, and the second, adrenaline surging through his body. This is what he needed. A whisper of guilt surfaced, overridden by the thirst for physical contact, for physical pain to shut down the pain in his head.

Mikey shouted at them to stop, but it was all just background noise. He welcomed each impact, each connection of fists and feet, each spurt of pain clearing a space in his head, empty of all but the fight. He chased that feeling, welcomed it, threw his own anger at his brother with elbow and foot and fist.

Leo pushed him back with a hail of perfectly aimed blows. Raphael felt the skin on his cheek split, the snap of pain in his elbow. He realised suddenly that Leo wasn't holding back. Wasn't pulling his punches. Each precise blow found its mark and Raphael slowed as the beating took its toll. Dimly he realised he was losing. He blocked, ducked aside. Wrong way. Leo's knee smashed him in the face. He stumbled back, shaking his head, trying to focus. He looked up in time to see Leo's foot sweep around. The impact on his plastron drove the air from his lungs. He slammed onto the floor, pain shooting across his cheek.

" _Leo!_ "

Mikey's shout seemed to come from a long way away. Spots danced across Raphael's vision, and his cheek burned. Through a haze he saw Leo's feet in front of him, heard the tear and rasp of Leo's breath. And then he turned and ran out of the dojo.

Footsteps approached. Mikey crouched down beside him, rested a hand on his shoulder. "Bro? You okay?"

As his head cleared the realisation of what he'd done came crashing down. Leo's face. He shook off Mikey's hand. "Leave me alone." Mikey sighed, but got up and left. Raphael hoped he'd gone to Leo.

Raphael lay on the floor of the dojo looking up at the grate in the ceiling. He should feel better. He'd got what he wanted. _At the cost of Leo's self-control_. He groaned and slammed his fists onto the floor. _Leo, I'm sorry. I'm sorry._ He rolled over onto his front and buried his face in his arms. It was always like this after he lost control. Never peace. Always remorse. _I just wanted to clear my head. I didn't mean to make you lose it._ He stared at the carpet, at the pattern of light and shadow made by his arms. _Please Donnie, please wake up. Before I break something past the point of repair._

_If you wake up, I promise I won't argue with Leo about training ever again. I won't. I swear._


	5. Bereft

Raphael shifted in the beanbag in front of the TV, flipping through the channels for something, anything interesting to watch. On the other side of the pit, Leo sat in Donnie's spot, his face buried in _The Art of War_. Mikey had retreated to his room after Leo had snapped at him. The swelling bruise on Raphael's cheek throbbed and he looked away. He fingered the graze on his knee, a livid reminder of his loss of temper this morning.

The turnstiles rattled as April and Casey came into the lair. "Hey guys," said April, with a tentative smile. "How's Donnie?"

Raphael kept his gaze on the TV. Leo got up and crossed the pit. "No change, April."

Raph couldn't help himself. He glanced over in time to see April's face, and wished he hadn't. The smile slid off her face and her shoulders slumped.

"Nothing?" she said, her voice cracking.

"Not yet." Leo glanced at Casey. "Did you want to see him?

"Please," she whispered.

April and Casey followed Leo to Donnie's room. Raphael stayed on the beanbag, glaring at the television, his ears straining to hear something from the bedrooms. An exclamation maybe, the sound of life and movement, instead of the heavy silence punctuated only by the hum and clank of the fridge.

Casey came out again pretty quickly. He flopped down on the couch next to Raphael, his gaze darting to the bloody scrapes. "What happened to you?"

"Training this morning," he grunted.

Casey nodded once and turned his attention to the TV, and Raphael's shoulder lost a little of their tension. Casey could always be counted on not to pry or try to talk to Raphael when he felt like this. Raphael found a Formula One race and they watched it in silence for a while.

Footsteps approached from behind. April walked out with her head down, her arms crossed across her chest. She stopped in the middle of the room, her gaze on the floor, Leo behind her.

Raphael's gaze met Leo's. Leo looked away quickly, and put a hand on April's shoulder. "I'm sure he'll be fine, April." Even to Raphael's ears, Leo sounded unconvinced. "He just- We just have to wait."

April looked up at Leo. "I looked up concussion. He should be awake by now. The longer a concussed person is unconscious, the more likely it is that they won't-" She pressed a hand over her mouth. "That they won't wake up-" Her breath caught in a sob.

Leo stood awkwardly beside her as she cried, patting her shoulder. "April, don't cry. He'll be- He's got to-" April turned and leaned against his chest. Leo wrapped his arms around April, his face tight, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Raphael forced his gaze back to the car race, his mouth dry. Typical of April to go look things up. She was just like Donnie, always needing to know. _The longer the concussed person stays unconscious…_ He forced his throughts away. That was for humans though, right? They were mutants. The rules were different for them. They were tougher. Donnie was tougher. He wouldn't-

Casey kicked the bean bag, hard enough that Raph felt the impact. Raphael glared at him.

"There's a new gang hanging around my hood." Casey's tone was rough, easily mistakable for anger. "Bunch of thugs, making trouble. They trashed the corner store last night." He shuffled his shoulders. "Want to go teach them some manners?"

Raphael cleared his throat. "Yeah. Yeah, that would be good." He could do with a good workout. He winced at the memory of this morning's workout. A workout where no one he liked got hurt.

"He'll come back to us, April. We just have to give it time," said Leo. "Please stop crying."

April pushed off Leo's chest, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She nodded, her face red, the colour drowning the freckles. Raphael's fists twitched with the desire to hurt someone, something, for making April cry. Leo put his arm around her shoulders. "You want a juice?"

"Should we ask Leo and Mikey to come?" said Casey.

Raphael glanced at April and Leo's retreating backs. "No. No. I think we need some space. They need some space. I mean- Let's just go. The two of us."

"Sure." Casey settled down on the couch, his arms crossed across his chest, his fists clenched against his sides.

Raphael turned back to the race, but it was over, and the post-race commentary wasn't distracting him. April cared. He knew she cared, about all of them, but maybe she cared about Donnie more. In a different way.

Donnie would be upset that she was crying. Donnie was always so aware of her moods, always concerned about whether she was happy or worried. He sighed. It was so intense, it made Raphael uncomfortable. But maybe, well, maybe she felt something for him after all.

_He'll come back to us_. Raphael breathed out slowly through his nose. He didn't know if he had Leo's faith.

_Donnie, if you wake up, I promise I will never tease you about April again._


	6. Broken

After dinner, Raphael left Leo and Mikey in front of the television and retreated to his room. He sat on the bed and rewrapped his left hand sai, where the leather had almost worn through. The rhythm of his hands faltered. Usually they would pick a night and sit in the dojo together to do what was necessary to keep their weapons in good condition. Leo would started it, almost always. Some tiny imperfection in his blade edge would catch his eye and he would decide it was maintenance night. Don't worry about whatever anyone else had planned. Leo would badger them into it, cajoling Mikey, dragging a reluctant Donnie from his lab.

Raphael always put up a token resistance, but he actually liked maintenance night. Mikey always had some awful joke or lame story to tell, and Donnie would always try to wriggle out of it, but once they settled down it was just the hiss of the sharpening stone, the creak of leather, the smell of oil. The movements were simple and soothing and familiar, and Raphael always found himself relaxed, afterwards.

His hands had stilled in his lap. He started the winding again, but his lines were off-kilter, his movements stiff. Sitting alone in his room, with his brother in the next room so silent and still, he couldn't find the rhythm, or the peace, that he usually found.

He finished the job and lay the sai in easy reach, then dozed on and off, staring at the ceiling of his room, until the clock read 10:30pm. Time to go. He slipped out into the quiet of the corridor and eased silently past the door to Donnie's room.

"I should have seen it coming. I should have known."

Raphael froze at the sound of Leo's voice, slipping instinctively into the shadows.

"You cannot know everything my son. Sometimes in battle, people get hurt. That is the nature of conflict." Splinter's voice was calm, but there was a weariness underneath it. A hopelessness. No. He was imagining that.

Hasty footsteps echoed, as if Leo was pacing across the room. "If only I'd brought us in the other way, we would have had our backs to the wall, instead of-"

"Leonardo." Splinter sighed. "Do not torture yourself. These thoughts will do nothing to improve the situation."

Leo cried out, a frustrated, angry growl. Rapid footsteps approached. Raphael shrank back into the shadows. Leonardo hurried past, head down, oblivious to Raphael's presence. But Raphael saw the look on his face and realised Leo was close to tears. He leaned against the wall, his gut tight. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Leo cry. Typical of Leo to blame himself. The bitter thought brought a sharp pain in his gut. _It's not your fault, Leo. It's no more your fault than it was mine._ Maybe he should go after Leo. Casey would understand if he was late. He stepped out of the shadows.

Splinter came through the door from Donnie's room. "Raphael. Will you sit with Donatello for a moment?"

"No!" Raphael said, before he could stop himself. But Splinter had walked after Leo without waiting for his answer.

Raphael stood in the corridor for several breaths, his heart pounding, before he could gather the courage to step through the door. A candle burned beside the bed, scenting the room with something tangy and fresh. The bedside lamp was on, and the little heater they used sometimes in winter glowed in the corner.

Raphael crossed the room and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. Donnie hadn't moved since they had brought him home, since they had placed him gently on the bed, thinking that it would only be a few hours before he came around. He lay so still, his muscles slack, his eyes sunk in their sockets.

A dark bruise bloomed across his temple and down his cheek. Raphael remembered the crack of Donnie's head against the wall, the slow, jointless tumble of his body, over the edge and down and down again. The thud of his body hitting the ground. The stillness. As if the whole world had stopped moving.

_I should have been up there, not you. It should have been me taking that hit._

Raphael reached out and took his brother's hand in fingers that trembled. It was like dead meat, flaccid and cool. He dropped it back on the bed. His chest felt like he was breathing tar, not air.

"Donnie?" he whispered. "Are you even trying, Donnie? Are you fighting?" There was no response from the still form on the bed. "Are you just going to lie there? Give up?" His throat closed. His hands shook. "Wake up. Get up. _Move._ " His voice wasn't working properly. He wanted to shake Donnie, _force_ him to move.

If he would only wake up, open his eyes, _explain_ what was wrong. Tell them why he wouldn't wake up. Tell them how they could fix it. _Just tell me and I'll do it. I'll do anything. Whatever it takes._ "Tell me," he whispered. "Donnie, what do I do?"

But nothing changed. Raphael turned his back on his brother's still form, digging his fingers into his thighs. The pain helped to focus his mind away from what lay behind him. From the fear that consumed all of them. That Donnie might never wake up.

_Wake up, Donnie. Wake up and I will be the brother you needed me to be. I promise._


	7. Blinded

The new gang in Casey's 'hood turned out to be a group of bikies; older, scarred, well-equipped with the street-thug's arsenal of pipes, chains and flick-knives. Raphael ducked a wildly-swung piece of iron that would have left a dent in his skull, then kicked the guy in the jaw. Bone crunched under his heel. The guy staggered back, howling in pain. Raphael followed with a sweeping roundhouse that sent the screaming goon into the wall with a meaty thud.

He swung around to check on the rest of the fight. Two more were laid out on the blood-spattered concrete. But where was Casey?

Raph pulled out his sai and went quiet. A whoop and the clash of metal on wood came from the abandoned building to his right. Raphael spotted the dark opening of a doorway and charged through.

Light from the streetlights patterned the floor, a flickering fence of yellow. Dust rose in clouds, stirred up by the combatants duking it out on the oil-stained cement floor; Casey and two men, both larger, older, heavier than Casey, armed and grim in their determination to destroy.

Raphael charged across the floor, from light to dark to light, breath stilled, heart pounding. Casey swung, snapping the end of his stick into his assailant's gut, crowing with delight, oblivious to the other man who slipped around behind him and raised a bar over his head.

Too far too far _too far_. Time slowed down, expanded. His foot landed in a patch of light. _Not the head._ He bent his knees, pushed off with all the strength he had. _Not the head!_

The bar came down and he caught it on his sai, the impact thumping into his arm, sending pain shooting through his shoulder. He grunted, turned, caught the bar and flipped the man over his back. One kick, two, and the man lay still. Raphael swung and charged, the sai light in his hands, flowing, silver metal flashing as his fists moved in a blur, flick, punch, sweep and then his heel coming down with finality.

He stood in the silence, heart hammering, breath sharp in his chest, cocooned in heat and sweat and anger, balancing on the balls of his feet, ready to jump, ready to fly.

"Hey, thanks for the save, bro."

Raphael swung around, took two steps and slammed his palms into Casey's chest, sending him stumbling backwards. "Are you stupid or something, Jones? What the hell were you thinking?"

"What?" Confusion blossomed on Casey's face.

"If you're fighting more than one person _pay attention to where the others are_ , you stupid ass!"

Casey shoved forward into Raphael's face. "Hey, I knew where he was. I was just-"

Raphael shoved him back. "You were just too damn busy being pleased with your own cleverness!"

"I took down three of these morons!"

"And you nearly got shredded by number four! When are you going to learn to _fight_ , Casey, instead of just swinging your stick around?"

An angry flush charged up Casey's neck. "What did you say?"

"You heard me! If you can't stay upright then _maybe you should stay home_!"

"Fine!" Casey flicked on his skates, shot across to his hockey stick and picked it up without stopping. One hand rested on the broken edge of the window frame as he leaped. He seemed to be silhouetted there, for a moment, then a blink and he was gone.

Raphael shoved his sai into his belt and turned towards home. It took the full four-block walk back to the sewer entrance before he stopped shaking. His own hard words came back to him. _It will be okay. Casey will cool off and then we'll be back to normal._ But he wondered if he had gone too far, this time. If he had pushed his vigilante buddy away for good.

He bent down and shoved the manhole cover aside, stared into the darkness below.

_Donnie, if you wake up, I promise, I swear, I will never lose my temper again._


	8. Brothers

The Lair is quiet when his brothers sleep, though not silent. Always there is the hum of distant ventilation fans, the slap and murmur of water that is never still, the clank of mindless mechanical activity from Donatello's lab. He turns away from that sharp pain, crosses the floor with silent footsteps. The door to Donnie's room is open, and yellow light spills out into the corridor. He slips around it in the dark.

As he passes the door to Leo's room he hesitates. There is always the chance that Leo, never on good terms with sleep, is meditating or reading some ridiculous book on leadership. He rests his hand on the door, the cold seeping in through his thick skin. There's no light, no fresh scent of incense, and he judges it safe to enter.

In the dim square of light from the open door, Leo is a lean shape under the quilt, the rounded bulk of his shell a ward against angry brothers.

Raphael sighs, and sinks onto the edge of the bed as lightly as a leaf falling. He reaches out to rest a hesitant hand on the curve of Leo's shell where it emerges from the blanket. Leo's breathing is shallow and even, and he sits awhile in silence, until he realises he has unconsciously matched Leo's soft breath.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. It's easier in the dark, when Leo can't see his face, when he doesn't have to avoid Leo's gaze. "I'm sorry I was an ass. It's not you. I'm just- I'm tired." Even now he can't say Donnie's name aloud and still hold on to himself. He's afraid of where he would go, if he admitted to the grief that sits in his throat like a stone. "I'll make it up to you. Somehow."

It doesn't help, and yet it does. His shoulders slump, and he becomes aware of how much they ache, how much he has been holding himself upright, afraid he might fall.

Leo twists around to face him. "Thanks."

Raphael snatches his hand away. He can feel the heat storming up his face. "I thought you were asleep." His voice is sharper than he meant, his heart a staccato beat in his chest. "Why didn't you say something?"

Leo shifts onto his back. "I wanted to hear what you had to say."

He folds his arms as a shield, waiting for Leo to laugh at him, imagining the grin on his face in the darkness. But when Leo shifts and the light outlines the edge of his cheeks, no smile catches the corner of his mouth.

"Do you often come in here and talk to me when I'm asleep?"

"No." Never in all of creation would he admit how many nighttime apologies he had given his sleeping brother.

"I get that you're upset. We all are. But why do you have to take it out on me?"

"I'm not."

Leo is silent for a long moment. "It feels like you are."

"I just-I can't, all right?"

There's a short sigh, and Leo's voice is tight, like he's holding something in. "You think I haven't felt this? Why does your emotional reaction matter more than mine?"

Raph turns his back on Leo, because that's safer. _It doesn't_ , he wanted to say. _I don't know how to fix this._ The small peace he's gained from his apology washes away in a tide of anger, directed at Leo.

He _was_ angry at Leo. He had to face that. Leo was the leader, should be telling Raphael what to do so Raphael could do it, could fix this. He rubbed his eyes with his hands. It wasn't Leo's fault that he couldn't do anything. None of them could. He slapped his fist into his thigh, then spreads his fingers flat, an admission of defeat. "I said I was sorry. Don't let's fight about it."

There's a tiny sigh from the bed. "Yeah, all right." When Raph looks back, Leo is rubbing his temples. He rolls over on his side to face Raph, hands tucked under his cheek.

Raph glances at the door, away from Leo's gaze. "I should let you sleep."

"Forget it. I haven't managed it yet." A long pause. Raph wants to leave, but finds he didn't have the energy to move. He's contemplating flopping on the floor when Leo speaks again. "You went out with Casey?"

"I thought it would be better than..." _Than sitting around the lair fighting with you_. "You know. Sitting around."

"Anything interesting?"

_Yeah. I shouted at him and insulted him and then stormed off._ "Cleaned up some gang members."

Leo grunts. "Good." His jaw drops in a huge yawn. He lifts his chin to look at his clock, but Raph is in the way. "What time is it?"

"After two."

Leo swats him on the arm. "Go to bed."

He shoves Leo, half-thinking he might just crawl in beside his brother, when he hears Splinter's voice.

"Donatello?"

There's a frozen moment, when the white's of Leo's eyes are all that occupies his vision. Leo throws off the covers. Raph realises he's stopped breathing, gulps for air and bolts for Donnie's room, Leo behind him.

At the door he stops as if he's run into a wall. Master Splinter is leaning over Donnie, whose eyes are open, blinking slowly, confused. His head turns, and he looks at Raph. Leo makes a choked sound beside him, and stumbles into the room to kneel beside the bed, his mouth pinched into a tight line.

Raphael can't. He can't bear it. He's going to throw up. He runs to his room, slams the door. Sinks to the floor and curls up in the darkness.

He lies there until his breathing steadies, until he no longer feels like throwing up. Donnie is awake. He's awake. He repeats the words over and over again in his head.

_He's awake._

 


	9. Burden

The sound of a door slamming woke Raphael. He was on the floor. Footsteps paced by outside. _Must be morning_. He rolled over and looked at his clock. Nearly eight-thirty. No-one had come to wake him. Routine had gone out the window since Donnie had fallen.

Memories of last night flooded back and he rolled to his feet in one movement. Mikey was singing in the kitchen, some awful pop song, belting it out at the top of his lungs.

The door to Donnie's room was open. Raph tapped on the doorframe, then went in.

Splinter sat in the same chair, hands folded in his lap.

"Is he-" Raphael's gaze went to the bed. Donnie no longer lay as if dead. He slept on his side, long arms draped across the covers. One hand twitched, as if he was dreaming.

_Let them be good dreams, Donnie._

"He is weak, but he will recover," said Splinter.

Raphael looked up and met Splinter's eyes. In his sensei's gaze he could see ease, relief. And then, finally, the tight band across his chest snapped and he could breathe properly again. He nodded to Splinter. Outside in the hall he leaned on the wall for a long moment with his eyes closed.

Footsteps approached. Raphael scrubbed at his eyes and stood up.

Leo came around the corner. He looked younger this morning, the hard lines of tension in his shoulders melted away. "Oh good, you're up. Training."

Raphael stared at him. "Are you kidding me?"

"Yes, Raphael. I am making a funny joke." Leo rolled his eyes. "It's eight-thirty. Training." His shoulders hunched, as if he was expecting a fight.

"No way. I-" His own words came back to him. _I promise I won't argue about training._ He bit back his first harsh response, and the second, struggled with the desire to tell Leo to shove it. "Okay, fine," he managed.

Surprise washed over Leo's face. "Right, then. Dojo, one minute," he said, walking off and calling for Mikey.

When he was gone, Raphael leaned on the wall. The depth and breadth of his promises landed on his shoulders in a crushing weight. _I only promised so you would wake up. And you're awake now. So it's okay._ But close on the heels of these thoughts came the fear of what the price of broken promises might be.

With a sigh, he pushed himself off the wall and followed Leo into the dojo for two hours of mind-numbing boredom, without the relief of giving Leo a hard time. Or slapping Mikey. Or losing his temper. Or-

"Ah, sewer bunnies," he muttered.

This was going to kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading Bargaining. I hope you enjoyed it! I would love to hear what you think about Raphael trying to keep his promises.
> 
> If you want more Raphael stories, you might like Impulse Control. If you like Donnie/April romance, try Walls. And if you'd like adventures in space with a healthy dose of angst, try What Lurks in the Dark.
> 
> <3,  
> Dora.


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